The Things He Knows
by idle curiosity
Summary: As the new captain of the Flying Dutchman, his life is changed forever. These are the things he now knows.


He knows the sea, now. He knows her in ways that he hadn't ever dreamt of, and hadn't ever wished to. The pulse of her waters is as familiar to him now as the rhythm of his own heart in his empty chest used to be. He is one with her, a servant to a capricious mistress. She can be still and gentle, wild and angry and cruel, and everything in between. She possesses many moods, and he knows them all. So completely attuned is he that he can sense her myriad changes long before the world ever becomes aware of them.

He knows the dead and dying, now. The calling of their souls for safe passage is as irresistible to him as the fabled sirens of legend, cries impossible for him to ignore. He understands the turmoil that he feels from them, the grief and horror of leaving too soon a world that holds everything cherished, in exchange for the unguided unknown. After all, he'd traveled the path toward death himself, a dark, cold and tumultuous journey, with no one to lead him. And he remembers the feeling. Such is his empathy for these fearful souls that he wonders how it was that Davy Jones had ever managed to so thoroughly corrupt the purpose of the Flying Dutchman. Instead of being in the care of a strong and quiet ferryman, the souls under Davy Jones' watch had been left to aimlessly traverse the seas between the world of the living and the shores of the afterlife, adrift and lost and alone, while he took vengence for his own shattered love and dreams.

He knows his ship, now. As he is one with the sea, he is one with the Flying Dutchman as well. He is bound to what had been a cursed ship. It is an unnatural union, but a union nonetheless, brought about by the harvesting of his heart. It is a marriage of sorts, a vow he hadn't taken, given by proxy by Jack and his father, but just as binding. And he can feel the ship changing. The neglect under Davy Jones' command had made the Dutchman a barnacle-encrusted ghost ship, gray and tattered and decayed. But, with him at the helm, she is slowly and surely restoring herself. A living entity in her own right, the Dutchman is responding to the care of a good captain. He and his crew can see the once proud ship revealing herself again.

And he knows the depths of loneliness, now.

He is the new captain of the Flying Dutchman, successor to a man who had thoroughly corrupted his purpose, his ship and his crew. When he'd taken up his command, the men were no longer bound to service. Some of them had elected to leave, some of them had stayed, still not ready to move on. But he knows that the men are wary. After long years of abuse at the hands of Davy Jones, they are reticent with their new captain; their trust must be earned. There is also a natural division between a captain and his crew, his position of authority demanding respect and not allowing for easy familiarity. He hasn't felt this isolated since he'd boarded the ship leaving England, after his mother had died.

He is the son of a long-absent father. His memories of Bootstrap were clouded by time, distance and a simple deceiving of himself. Bill Turner hadn't been a merchant sailor, a good respectable man who'd obeyed the law. He'd been a pirate, a scalawag. He'd been a man who'd followed the dual siren calls of the sea and of treasure, leaving behind a wife and son to fend for themselves. The times that his da had made port were full of stories and trinkets, hugs and laughter, but they'd never lasted long before Bootstrap again heeded the pull of the sea, and left them behind once more.

To be with his father now aboard the Dutchman often leaves him in a turmoil of intense emotions - pain, anger, love, disappointment, hope, myriad others. They are so very confusing. But what has become clear is that he doesn't know his sire at all. In all the times of his life, the time with his da had been too little to forge any sort of real knowledge of the man. What he has are a small boy's fanciful remembrances, which are really nothing more than deceptions spun to fill an aching void of emptiness and loss.

His father has chosen to stay with him aboard the Dutchman, when he could have moved on. And he is so very grateful for that. He knows Bill Turner loves him. Yet he is loath to let his father too close so soon, unable to help the lack of trust. He simply desires, in the unspoken depths of his disillusioned heart, to protect himself from further hurt. This is a loneliness that he chooses, for now.

More than anything else, he is the absent husband of an adored new wife. After their long estrangement, everything had finally been stripped down to its most elemental level that day aboard the Pearl. And he and Elizabeth had made their choices. Unwilling to wait any longer, they'd married during a chaotic ceremony that was all the more satisfying because they had taken control. They were determined that their wedding would not be interrupted again.

Yet while it is true that even death at the hands of Davy Jones couldn't part them for long, a goddess, a ship and a purpose could. Destiny, it would seem, would not be interrupted either.

He aches for her, every moment, with a longing that is almost impossible for him to bear. He never forgets for an instant what they should have had. There should have been sunlit days filled with laughter and love, and sultry nights filled with passion. Without her, his days are long and his nights are longer still. His arms are empty, his bed is as well.

He misses her, always. He misses her fearlessness and her fiercely independent nature, her quick mind, and her boundless love. He misses her kiss, and the familiar press of her slender body against his own. He yearns for the chance to once again trace his hands over every inch of her warm skin as they joyously fulfill their love. He misses her smile, the music of her voice, and her scent. He longs to talk with her, to cross swords with her.

He clings ferociously to every memory of his wife; they are all he has now. He worries that the memories will fade over time. The clear picture he'd once had of his mother has faded; he struggles now to recall her face, her voice. Over ten long years, will the same thing happen with his memories of Elizabeth?

This loneliness hurts, unlike anything that he has ever known before. This is a loneliness that will destroy him, if he lets it.

But he knows himself. Everything in his life has led him to this moment. Being without his father, the death of his mother, crossing the ocean alone, shipwreck, apprenticeship at a young age, a spartan existence ... all these things taught him to live with loss, to know that his desires would seldom be fulfilled, and that the people he loves most can be taken from him at any time.

As the Dutchman sails over the seas of the dead, he knows what strength resides in his soul. He has the ability to endure loneliness and loss. He has done it before, and he will do it again. He knows how to do a job, day in and day out, and do it well. He has done it before, and he will do it again. He will mark the passage of time by the safe conduct of the souls he guides and the love he has for his beloved Elizabeth, counting down the days until he sees her again. For he knows that his love is strong enough to endure time and tide; and his will is as strong as steel.


End file.
